


behind the curtain, in the pantomime

by dahlstrom



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, because an actual AU is too much for me apparently, revue nerd even, tumblr made me do this, vilde is still a meddler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahlstrom/pseuds/dahlstrom
Summary: Basically, Isak is just never going to speak to any of his friends for the rest of his life. Which shouldn’t be too difficult, since he’s pretty sure he’ll be spending eternity in this auditorium surrounded by these screeching revue nerds, what feels like a thousand of them. This is it, this is his own personal hell.





	behind the curtain, in the pantomime

**Author's Note:**

> so yesterday [ciara](http://littlespooneven.tumblr.com) tagged a gifset with "#making out with the revue nerd in an empty classroom #sounds like an au" and i just ran with it. that's literally all this is, oops. it kinda went somewhere i didn't expect because isak is physically incapable of playing it cool! ciara tells me it's okay though ❤️ hope you enjoy!

He’s never going to forgive Sana for roping him into this shit. _Never._

And he’s never going to forgive Vilde either, for getting Sana involved with the revue. Or Eva, for having the fucking party in the first place, or Mahdi for buying the weed or Jonas for being too much of a pussy to hold onto it and sticking Isak with it. He’s only got Magnus left as a friend. 

Actually wait, no - Magnus is a dick too, because he bailed on Isak in coming to this thing, along with Mahdi and Jonas. So he’s out as well.

Basically, Isak is just never going to speak to any of his friends for the rest of his life. Which shouldn’t be too difficult, since he’s pretty sure he’ll be spending eternity in this auditorium surrounded by these screeching revue nerds, what feels like a thousand of them. This is it, this is his own personal hell. 

_Trust me, there’s so many cute guys in the revue!_ Vilde had said. _I just know you’re going to hit it off with at least one of them,_ she’d said. _And live happily ever after and make me and Sana bridesmaids in your wedding,_ she’d said, with that irritatingly perky smile of hers, and Isak had just glared at her, at her and Sana both, and when they’d walked away from him (Vilde still giggling, Sana smirking) he had most definitely given the finger to both of their backs.

Just because Vilde can’t get her own love life sorted gives her zero right to interfere in Isak’s. These days he’s wondering why he bothered coming out in the first place, since he’d stupidly convinced himself that a hundred eligible gay guys would suddenly materialize at Nissen and he’d have his pick of boyfriends. Nope. That well has remained dry, and by now he’s resigned himself to the fate of being single for the rest of high school.

And he’s _seriously_ questioning Vilde’s opinion on what makes a boy cute, because there isn’t a single one in here that he’d look at twice. 

In fact, he may have the opportunity to do so right now since she’s heading his way. He grips the paintbrush that has gone slack in his hand and pretends he’s been busily painting away this entire time. 

“Hi!” Vilde says brightly, but her smile immediately fades when she sees how little work he’s actually gotten done. She clicks her tongue at him and nudges his shoulder. “Too busy staring?”

“At what?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.

“At all of them!” She waves her hand at the sea of jabbering, obnoxious revue kids. “I can see at least five boys who’d be perfect for you without even trying hard.”

Isak starts to bite his tongue, but then decides not to fucking bother. “Try harder. Much harder.”

Vilde instantly looks hurt, and opens her mouth to almost certainly let him know just how hurt, but she’s distracted by the sudden clamoring from the crowd. They seem to be greeting someone who’s just come in the side door - Isak catches a glimpse of a tall guy with even taller blond hair before a swarm of students surround him. 

Vilde actually lets out a gasp and covers her mouth with both hands, her eyes even larger than usual. “What?” Isak asks, because he can tell she’s smiling like an idiot under her hands. 

“That’s Even,” she whispers, like the name is reverent or something. “He’s not the director of the revue since he’s still a student, a third-year, but he might as well be. The actual director defers to his judgment most of the time. He’s _brilliant._ ”

Unable to resist, Isak stares over at the group surrounding Even, trying to get a look at the man himself. The sight of all these nerds practically worshipping him is enough to turn his stomach, though, and he rolls his eyes and turns back to the set piece he’s supposed to be painting. “I guess that’s why it’s okay for him to stroll in here an hour late,” he says shortly, because Vilde is still gazing in that direction and it’s irritating. 

But she shakes her head. “No, someone told me he’d be late because he had a therapy appointment. It’s fine. But now things can really get started.” She abruptly walks away without a single look at Isak, striding directly up to the group around Even and starting to push her way through it. 

Whatever. Isak stabs his brush into the paint can to load it up and raises it again with a sigh, but before he can get back to it, his attention is drawn back toward the crowd by a deep laugh, rich and musical, and his eyes immediately zero in on the person who’d let it out - Even.

It must be him. The guy has the same perfectly styled hair Isak had caught sight of when he’d come in, but now the group has cleared somewhat and he can actually see his face. He’s _gorgeous,_ even from this distance, and Isak is instantly jealous of Vilde, because it appears she’s the one who’d made him laugh. They’re laughing _together_ now, and Even’s eyes are all squinty in the most adorable way. He’s trying so hard not to stare but it’s impossible. 

Maybe this thing won’t be a total waste of time after all.

Now Vilde seems to be looking right at him while still talking to Even, and shit, is she gesturing at him? _Pointing_ to him? Because Even is looking at him too, staring directly into Isak’s eyes. They’re thirty feet apart but he can still tell exactly how blue Even’s are. 

Even’s gaze is so mesmerizing that it actually takes a few seconds for Isak to break it, but he can still feel it. He’s blushing like crazy from the intensity of it, as well as from the flick of Even’s tongue over his lips he’d seen before he’d looked away. He clears his throat loudly, as if there’s someone around who’d witnessed what had just happened and he needs to deflect them, and turns his back on Even and Vilde under the pretense of becoming very involved in his painting. 

He’s only fooling himself, of course. It takes less than a minute for him to peek back over, and when he sees that Even’s no longer standing there his eyes roam wildly over the stage until he spots him again. Honestly, if Even weren't so fucking hot Isak would have to laugh at the sight of him - sunglasses hooked into his collar as if it’s not six o’clock at night in November and a pencil stuck behind his ear, another in his hand as he flips through a thick script littered with post-it notes sticking out of all three unbound sides. He’s speaking to about five of the revue kids now, eyebrows moving restlessly, his beautiful blue eyes bright and expressive, somehow able to gesture with both hands even while they’re full. The kids he’s talking to are all staring at him like he’s some sort of directing god, their mouths slack as they nod at every single word he’s saying. It’s _embarrassing._

Just then, though, Even glances up, his eyes landing squarely on Isak again as if he’d felt Isak staring. This time, Isak doesn’t look away. He can’t.

Whatever Even had been saying to his actors had been quite serious, judging by his expression, but now the ghost of a smile crosses his face. Isak is too startled to smile back, but damn, he wants to. He knows if he tried it would look completely ridiculous so he doesn’t even attempt it, but then Even _winks_ at him, actually fucking winks, and Isak is torn between melting into a puddle and winking right back at him, so he does absolutely nothing but continue staring (although he’s pretty sure his mouth has dropped open and he bears a remarkable resemblance to the assholes around Even right now). 

Then he blinks, and when he can focus again Even is back to giving the students in front of him directions. Isak actually shivers from the loss, nearly dropping his paintbrush. 

He spends the next twenty minutes doing the worst paint job ever in history because he keeps stealing glances at Even, and most of them are _returned,_ which makes his work twice as bad. Isak doesn’t really get theatre so he’s not sure what’s going on most of the time, but whatever the kids are doing is clearly what Even wants, because he keeps laughing and clapping and his actors are just falling all over themselves with his praise, and after a while Isak realizes that _he_ wants to earn it, too, and he sort of fucking hates himself. How did this happen? What revue nerd chamber of hell has he been dropped into - or is it some offshoot of heaven since there’s clearly a beautiful angel at the helm?

He’s so stunned that he’s only vaguely aware of the director calling a break. It’s not until Sana whistles at him that he notices people streaming toward the doors, and he quickly sets down his brush. He’s looking around for his backpack so he can grab his jacket and head outside for some fresh air when a tall shadow falls over him. “Hey.” 

The voice is unmistakable - it’s the same one he’s been trying desperately to catch every word from for the last half hour. The instinct to look up at Even is too strong to resist, even though he knows he’s already blushing. “Hi,” Isak replies, his belly doing backflips. Even’s eyes are a hundred times more incredible at close range. 

“It’s Isak, right?”

“Mhm.” He only has a second to wonder how Even knows his name before he's suddenly taken a step closer to Isak, and any semblance of rational thought drains right out of his head. 

“Glad you’re here,” Even says smoothly, and oh fuck, now he’s smiling again, and Isak has to press his lips together to keep from letting out a whimper. “Although...” he adds, and now he’s leaning closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I hear it’s not by choice.”

Isak’s heart is going to pound right out of his chest any second. The heat of Even’s body, the thrill of being this close to a person so magnetic, so completely beautiful - it’s too much to take. “Something like that,” he just barely manages to reply, his mouth so dry that it’s difficult to speak at all.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes. Want to come with me, see if I can persuade you to come back for the next rehearsal?”

Wait, what?

But there’s no time for questions, no time to consider anything at all, because Even is already walking away. He’s walking _backward_ though, and he’s still staring at Isak with that same secret little smile, and even if he hadn’t crooked his finger at Isak, beckoning him to follow, his feet would have carried him along anyway. He’s a helpless little moth, and Even is the brightest flame he’ll ever see.

He doesn’t know how they get there. He doesn’t even know where _here_ is, precisely, just that it’s an empty classroom. All the lights are off and the door is shut behind them, but there’s plenty of moonlight spilling through the windows on the far wall. Even is leaning against one of the sills, eyes still locked on Isak’s, and there’s no need for him to curl his finger this time. Isak goes right to him, barely feeling the floor beneath his feet.

“I’ve seen you around, you know,” Even says softly. His hands are resting on Isak’s waist, but Isak doesn’t remember them landing there. It doesn’t feel foreign, either. It’s as if he’s already comfortable with Even touching him, like they’ve done this before. “And it’s partly because of me that you’re here. Sana and I have mutual friends; we’re in on this little blackmail together. I wanted to meet you and she helped me out.”

Honestly, at this point Even could say he’s personally responsible for the election of Donald Trump and Isak wouldn’t care. Even’s grip on him isn’t that tight, not _physically,_ anyway, but Isak’s leaning into him as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is that so?” he whispers, his mouth barely moving as he stares fixedly at Even’s, trying to figure out if his lips are as soft as they look. 

“Yeah,” Even replies, splaying his fingers out against Isak’s back, drawing him closer still. “She knows you’re pissed at her for it. Are you going to get pissed at me, too?”

“Depends on why you wanted me here.” He can’t understand how he’s bold enough to say these things, be this close to Even without any sort of fear. Then again, does it really matter? He knows what’s about to happen.

Even clearly knows it, too, and it shows in the mischievous smile his lips suddenly form. “So I could do this,” he mumbles, his mouth near enough to Isak’s now for their lips to brush together on the last word, but Isak is the one to close the last tiny bit of space between them. It doesn't feel the least bit crazy, kissing someone he’d only laid eyes on less than an hour ago. It feels inevitable. 

But he was wrong about one thing: Even’s lips are _much_ softer than they appear. 

Isak doesn’t quite get how it happens, but the next thing he knows, they’ve switched places and he’s the one sitting on the windowsill, Even standing between his legs with one hand under Isak’s thigh and the other cupping his face, holding it there as if Isak would _ever_ move it away. His own hands are too eager, restlessly roaming through Even’s hair, over his back and arms and shoulders, and once even sliding down to grab his ass without the least bit of hesitation, and it just makes Even crowd in closer, pushing Isak all the way back against the window and kissing him like he’ll never have another chance. 

Isak’s legs swing up to loop around Even’s waist, their mouths now fused together so tightly he’s not sure how either of them can breathe. Some tiny voice in his head keeps asking how the fuck this happened, how is he sitting in this dark empty classroom making out with the most gorgeous guy he’s ever imagined could _exist?_ He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care; he just doesn’t want it to end. 

But of course it has to - a little alarm on Even’s phone starts beeping soon, and he lets out a groan as he pulls back from Isak to take it out of his pocket. “Set it before we left. Break’s over.” He looks up at Isak again, biting his lip, and Isak just stares back at him, stroking his arm with the back of his head pressed against the window. Even huffs out a breath and dives right back in, kissing him with twice as much passion as before, and Isak can’t help grinning against his mouth because shit, it had been his very first try at inviting a boy back for more and it had _worked._

It’s another five minutes of groping and little moans and panting breaths and hardly knowing where his own body stops and Even’s begins, and then Even finally pulls back again. “I’m about to just say fuck it and let them try to find me,” he mumbles, leaning his forehead against Isak’s and stealing another tiny kiss, then another, and then he sighs. 

“Or we could just go lock the door?” Isak whispers, tightening his legs around Even’s waist because damn if he’s going to let him go until he absolutely must.

“Or...” Even draws the word out, smiling against Isak’s lips before kissing him yet again. “We could just get the hell out of here. Sana told me you live with roommates, not your parents?”

Isak doesn’t answer with words, just gives him a devilish little smile in return. And Even laughs, loud enough to be heard all the way in the damn auditorium _anyway,_ and Isak silences him with another kiss. “Tell me what your stuff looks like and I’ll grab it and sneak it out,” he says, his heart rate speeding up at the mere idea.

“Meet me at that bench outside?”

“Two minutes,” Isak promises, and pulls him back in for just one more kiss. Well, one more in this empty classroom. He doubts anybody would be able to count how many they’ll share before the night is over.

**Author's Note:**

> no but like... i really truly set out to just write a random makeout session but then there were FEELINGS and it's clear to me now that these two could never just be casually interested in each other! #soulmates 
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://dahlstrom.tumblr.com)! comments kudos etc are super appreciated :)


End file.
